Burning a Building Down
by SweetG
Summary: -SLASH, Puck/Kurt. Please read author notes- He's crude, and lewd, and makes as many disgusting double-entendres as he deems necessary. Hummel laughs at most of those things, and Puck is pretty sure that yes, he's screwed. But in the best possible way.


**Notes:** This follows _Wrong_, _Used to_, _Time_, and _Interlude_. All the stories can be found both on my profile and on my LJ.

That said, enjoy.

_**:::...:::**_

Cogs. Screws. Iron. Steel.  
Machines don't have feelings. They are calibrated and oiled. People make them, people turn them on and off.  
The more he keeps talking (via text messages) with Kurt, the more he convinces himself that everyone from Dalton's that way, it seems.  
_Picture perfect, but soulless._

Puck is not like that.

He's screwed up in every possible way; he's the poster child for troubled teenager, he has more issues than most of McKinley's student body combined, and he's one step away from being tossed back into juvie.

Also?

_He has ruined every single romantic relationship he has ever had in his life.__  
_  
That's why he's so scared about this thing with Kurt (this thing that lacks a name but has everything else, including his heart on a string).

He wants to make this work, wants this to be a good thing, for both of them. He wants this to mean_something_. He wants to do good by Kurt. And for the first time in his life? He wants to do good by himself, too.

(He keeps making all these decisions, and feeling all these emotions, and keeping Kurt on the dark. Maybe that should change.)

_**:::...:::**_

When does one legitimately know that the world is coming to an end?

Puck'd say: "When Noah Puckerman asks Rachel Berry for romantic advice...

"I, for one, think you should see him. Talk to him face to face, show him how sincere your attempts at socializing with him are. _Bond_. Preferably over macchiatos."

... And for once in her life, she makes sense.

_**:::...:::**_

_hey lets get coffee 2gether dude___

_Noah? I'm in the middle of a class, right now.___

_Not naw k. l8r?___

_Oh... kay? What are you planning?___

_Trust me. I just want to talk._

If it wasn't obvious by now that he is just trying to be there for Hummel (and make the dude want him there), the correct spelling and shit should do the trick, right?

Right.

(If he felt stalls for awhile after sending the message; jittery and warm all over, and perhaps a bit fumbling, nobody calls him on it.)

_**:::...:::**_

It should be easy. He's been testing the waters for forever.

(Turns out, nothing really prepares you for something like this.)

"Hi, Noah." A smile. More sweet tempered than it should be; less subdued than the last one Puck had seen from him. It's almost the littlest of bitter victories.

(Instead of hearing _wrong_, he hears _do it_. A constant stream of doitdoit_doit._)

"Hey, dude." And then "Hummel." And then "Kurt."

Then: "Fuck."

Kurt laughs.

The tingling sound is so strong, so _powerful_; Puck is embarrassed at how much he wants to keep hearing that joyful expression until he dies, how much he just wants to drown in that mirth.

_**:::...:::**_

"You look... better. Are the Gamblers being more nice to you?"

" the word would be 'nicer'."

"Whatever. Are they?"

"You could say so. Mostly..."

"Yeah?"

"Mostly I'm just learning to assimilate that things there are different."

"That don't mean you have to be different for them."

"No, it doesn't. You reminded me of that. Thank you, Noah."

_**:::...:::**_

For something that starts so terribly awkward, this entire_ bonding exercise_ goes better than Puck expected it to.

Mostly, he's just amazed at how much he has unknowingly missed Kurt. As a whole. Every single gesture awakens something so intense, so extreme, and from such a deep place within him, that he has to wonder_when_ and _how_, and _why_; and even a wobbly _what?_

Kurt tells him about Dalton, and about missing his father, and about a bunch of other things that they've already talked about but feel new anyway, just because they are being told to him in person, word after word, after word, dropping from Kurt's sinous and pink mouth.

He tries to squash down every single thought about Hummel's mouth, and replies to everything as best he can.

He's crude, and indiscreet, and lewd, and makes as many disgusting double-entendres as he deems necessary.

Hummel laughs at most of those things, and Puck is pretty sure that _yes_, he's screwed. But in the best possible way.

_**:::...:::**__****_

Later that night, when he's already at home, he gets a text message:

___It had been a while since I'd had such a great time, Noah. Thanks._

He wants to reply with:

_I've probably never had such a great time. Let's do it again. And again._

Instead, he types a quick _dude no prob ur cool to hang with. _

_**:::...:::**_


End file.
